


One In A Thousand

by PictureStories



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PictureStories/pseuds/PictureStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark One and the Angel of Death make a deal for a blind girl’s soul. Can she discover good in the monstrous demon before time runs out? In this story Rumplestiltskin transforms a coma patient’s mind into a fantastical world where dreams become reality and good triumphs over evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Why do humans hold so tightly to that which was meant to dissipate? Maybe it’s because they sense that they too are mere shadows themselves, here today and dust tomorrow. All men are evil and then they die. One generation rises and another sets like the rising and the setting of the sun. Wealth, wisdom, greatness, power, love and eternal life were the things they bartered for and he met with them one by one pocketing prizes, souvenirs and favors from the desperate and needy. One in a thousand grasped the secret of life –one in a thousand enjoyed their passing moment in the sun –one in a thousand caught his eye. Rumplestiltskin sought out these few, these diamonds in the rough. He shelved tokens and favors from the nine hundred ninety-nine; little things that could help him keep that one person’s light burning that much longer.

Passing invisibly through the winding throng, the Dark One studied the faces of men, women and children. They couldn’t see him, but he could see them. Unaware of their blessed brevity they shopped, ate, drank, played, fought, killed, cried and hoped for what they couldn’t have. Always wanting more; that was the thing about humans, they’d rather fade away clinging to their fragile passing hopes, preferred it actually; to letting natural change take place. Life and love was meant to pass through our fingers as it had for all of eternity.

New York’s marquees lit up the evening sky, bathing the sidewalk in an eerie florescent patchwork of colors. Above all other cities Rumplestiltskin found more deals to be made in this bleeding metropolis. Desperate souls haunted the steel city in search of fame and fortune. A few succeeded, but more often than not, they either gave up or gave in to a carefully crafted deal.

 

Through the automatic doors of the city hospital, the Dark One strode purposefully. Bleeding, falling, fading, dying, dozens wilted on every side, but Rumplestiltskin moved on unseeing. He hadn’t come for the bruised and broken, his deals were made with the living. He paused briefly at the end of the hospital corridor, watching the doctor with detached boredom. This wasn’t the first deal the ambitious physician had made with Rumplestiltskin and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Invisible to the naked eye, he stood head to toe in polished dragon hide and russet silk, transformed and fitted to his narrow form. His chest and face were golden-green, scaled and dry but shimmering unearthly under the flickering florescent lights. Thigh-high laced leather boots wove up his legs from ankle to kneecap. He propped a shoulder against the discarded steel food rack and watched the nurses shuffle back and forth from the bedside of the dying politician. Their efforts were pointless, the Dark One reflected dispassionately. Death came for every man, king or pauper and a few years made little difference.  Only Rumplestiltskin survived both time and the restrictions of human existence. Devil, dealer, baby stealer…wasn’t that what they called him? The cursed one who existed between time and space, making deals with the weakest and most desperate souls for all of eternity.

In an adjacent room the low hum of a monitor marked the death of an elderly woman. Rumplestiltskin nodded wordlessly at the sharp, black suited angel who’d come to collect the woman’s soul. Indifferent to the nurses’ pathetic struggles to revive her, he simply collected her essence and escorted it down the hall without a backwards glance.

To Rumplestiltskin’s left, giggles and squeals pierced the heavy atmosphere from the children’s ward. He turned and absently wandered through the double doors; the senator had a good three hours left, plenty of time to bargain. Beaming munchkins of various heights and ages on the ground or in wheelchairs huddled around a young woman in a plastic blue chair. Bathed in a stream of recessed lighting the animated brunette smiled brightly at the little assembly. She was holding up a children’s book, pointing to a colorful page where a magnificent, turquoise and red dragon had just been felled by a knight in shining armor. There was no end to the enthusiasm she rankled out of the pitiful brood. They popped up and hollered in blissful turns in response to her questions. 

“‘Hurrah!’ the villagers cried. They waved banners in the air and cheered.” Hoisting her free arm in the air, she acted out the little scene for her rapt audience. The petite lass wore a canary yellow sundress of thin cotton that lightly skimmed the crest of her knees. Severing his observations, the storyteller broke halfway through her next sentence, “Come! Come on in!” she waved enthusiastically from the center of the mush pot.  Rumplestiltskin turned apathetically from left to right. There was no one around him.

“Come on, join us! Don’t be shy!” her head lifted toward the distant corner where Rumplestiltskin stood in the double doorframe. If he wasn’t absolutely certain he was invisible to the human eye, he’d swear she was speaking to him. The thought caused him to stiffened involuntarily.

The crowd of children turned their innocent gaze to the empty open corridor where Rumplestiltskin stood stoic, frozen in place as if cemented in the speckled linoleum tile. She couldn’t really see him there? Could she?

“Teacher.” one strawberry blonde whispered loudly, “There’s no one there, teacher.”

“Hm? Are you sure, Samantha?”

“Yes, teacher. There’s no one over there.” The little girl dutifully searched the bright, florescent hall with her large, hazel eyes just to make sure.

After a moment the story continued and Rumplestiltskin, curiosity peeked, skirted the room cautiously in his waxed leather boots. Approaching the slim back of the narrator with silent steps he hovered ever so slightly over her left shoulder. The reading stopped abruptly again and Rumplestiltskin jolted back a step as if bitten. He perceived her heartbeat quicken just as his own ancient organ began to.

“Teacho?” A little sooty haired toddler placed one of his pudgy hands on her knee. “Ow you otay, Teacho?”

When the storyteller turned to face the little boy, Rumplestiltskin got a good clear look at her sky blue eyes fringed with long black lashes in a soft, oval face. Clearly blind, the sapphire circles were glossy and unfocused. Full pink lips painted a smile that started at the corners of her ripe mouth and spread far and wide, covering her cheeks in a ripple of dimples. 

After a long while the little enthusiasts filed out of the room to their respective corners and the girl stood alone in the center of the round, cherry red carpet. She stooped to search out and gather up the meager stack of fairytales. The smile started again –crinkling up into the creamy cheeks, revealing a line of straight white teeth.

“Are you still here?”

“Yes,” he thought to himself, circling her cautiously. She was a lovely little thing, small and slight with waist length wavy chestnut hair bound with a simple thin, satin ribbon.

“I think you are,” she nodded with a confident tip of her dainty chin. “You’re welcome any time. Many children are too shy to come forward and hear the stories, but don’t worry about anything –you’re always welcome. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer she swung a worn canvas tote across her shoulder and stuffed the childrens’ books inside. Feeling along the lush carpet at her feet, she located a long red and white cane and standing slowly, she shuffled carefully down the hall toward the neon exit sign.   

Aware of the slipping hour, Rumplestiltskin pivoted toward the hall doors, from whence he’d come when he spotted a small blue book the girl had forgotten under her plastic chair. Rumplestiltskin picked it up and thumbed through the brightly painted pages –another kind of fairy tale he mused with a half grin. Vanishing the thin volume with a snap of his fingers he magicked it to his treasury of keepsakes and stalked toward the surgery room.

Laid out on the operating table unconscious, the graying politician’s chest was exposed and already prepped for surgery. The portly old man had led a completely selfish life, suffocating his existence with greed and materialism and bringing misery to everyone around him. Miraculously saving him would, obviously earn the young Doctor a good deal of public acclamation. Rumplestiltskin glanced at his prize, a particular heart the surgeon had collected for this upcoming procedure.

“Dr. Whale,” Rumplestiltskin greeted. With a dramatic flurry of purple wind, followed by a signature high pitched giggle he revealed himself behind the physicians back. The surgeon swung around, toppling over a tray of newly disinfected instruments. The man was clearly at wits end. His cropped blond hair fell limply against his head and wisps of it stuck to the perspiration on his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and outlined with dark circles, but they shifted nervously towards the door where his nurses would be entering any minute. The Dark One clapped his hands eagerly and without a moment of hesitation, produced a long document and a feathered pen from a swirl of magic.

“Ready to make your deal?”

“You know what I want,” the weary doctor responded with a tip of his chin. “But what do you want?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” The Dark One squealed and pranced on tiptoe over to the ice chest on a nearby table. Propping open the lid with one of his long green fingers he wrinkled his nose, grinned, and pointed to the living organ. “I want _that_!”

“The heart?” Whale gaped at the devilish imp for only an instant before wearily kneading both thumbs into the temples of his throbbing head with a defeated sigh. “Won’t I need that?” he asked without looking up.

The Dark One’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he took another glance in the cooler, “This?” He pointed with an innocent shake of his green index finger. “No, you don’t need _that_. You need blood…” From beneath his slender wrist he produced a dark red vile not much bigger than his own thumb. “ _This_ blood.”

Whale conceded with a weary shrug. “I’ll hand it over to you once this is over with.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled, his reptilian eyes dancing with delight, “Agreed. Now sign here if you please.”

 

Twenty minutes later, possessed of his prize he exited through the automatic glass doors. The air outside was humid despite the lack of summer sunlight. At the cross-section an ambulance and police cars shielded wreckage from the sight of passersby, but Rumplestiltskin casually slipped between the partitions. A desperate, distraught young man was howling at a cop, gesturing wildly beside his delivery truck at the incident before him. The Dark One took everything in. On the pavement lay a very still, very familiar young woman with long chestnut curls around a bloodied oval face. A gurney was carefully cradling her slight form and able-bodied medics were assisting it into the vehicle.  Someone in the crowd was crying. A nurse and a small child stood off to the side, pointing and talking in hushed tones. Rumplestiltskin recognized the little child as one of the burn victims in the children’s ward where the woman had read.

They were shutting the door now, taking her away to the emergency entrance on the far side of the building. Rumplestiltskin followed the ambulance, hardly knowing why. He barely knew the girl –had hardly seen enough to warrant his devoted attention, and yet he knew there was something startlingly different about this individual. She had sensed him, even if she couldn’t see him (for _multiple_ reasons) and that intrigued Rumplestiltskin. He’d meant to seek her out after his deal with Whale, perhaps follow her and see what her life consisted of, now there would be nothing to follow. The Dark One knew enough of life and death to recognize her likely fate; it was too late and that frustrated him.

 A few hours later she was wheeled down the hall to a recovery room where Rumplestiltskin waited. Having delivered the heart to its desired recipient he’d returned here to pace impatiently in the room he knew she’d be taken to. All magic had a price. There was no deal to be made with an unconscious victim and no relatives present for payment, so the Dark One waited for the surgery to be complete and the sleeping girl to be settled in the recovery unit. He opened the curtains, allowing the silvery light to fall softly across her bandaged brow. They were alone.  With only the moonlight illuminating her gentle curves, he stalked the length of the bed, studying her. One hand suspended a foot above her broken body; purple mist glowed from his palm as he searched her for internal injury.

The girl was in a coma –a fatal one from what he discerned. She had only a couple of days before she slipped from this world. Snatching the clipboard from the end of her bed he read the surgeon’s hasty script. They’d found her identification in the knapsack she carried. Her name was Belle. Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself, “ _Belle_ ,” it suited her. Perching on the crown of a nearby chair he rested both waxed crocodile skin boots on the mauve seat cushion and watched her.

“Go on in, Samantha.” A half-hour later the little child from the sidewalk stepped hesitantly hand-in-hand with her nurse to the bedside of the young woman. Pausing beside her still, white hand, the little girl stooped a pressed a kiss to the top.

“Get well, Belle! We miss you.” The child picked up the hand and gently stroked it with her tiny fingers. “We’re all waiting for you. Everyone knows you’re here: Gordy, Tishana, Megan, Karen, Alice, the kids from the tenth floor and even Stevie –though he still don’t say nothin’. But he misses you too. Please get better soon, Belle!” The little girl gave the hand a firm squeeze before her nurse whisked her away.

It was only a short while before other children filed in, always accompanied by staff and always visiting only briefly. Nurses and other employees also came to check on the young woman, some sniffled, some looked on sadly, some brought trinkets, a few touched her hand and one even stopped to pray. Over the next hour the visits were almost constant. Rumplestiltskin sat on his perch watching each proceeding with piqued curiosity.

“She was able to see the good in people.” The words were uttered without emotion, the clean-cut stoic suit stood rigid at the foot of the hospital bed. The Angel of Death appeared deceptively, invitingly human with his disarming mop of floppy blonde hair and watery blue eyes. “Rare.” Head cocked inquisitively to the side, Death squared his gaze at the Dealer. “I find myself wondering…Why are you here?”

Rumplestiltskin descended from his narrow roost and met his old acquaintance with a devilish grin, his black teeth and thin lips creating a sickly smile where welcome was attempted. “Have you come to take her?” he asked with practiced disinterest.

“Yes.” Motionless and detached the angel took a stiff step closer to the sleeping girl, robotically leaning over her fading frame while his eyes searched for the soul he’d soon claim. “…but not yet.” His back snapped upright, while his eyes sought out the Dark One in the pale light, “in four days time. I thought that perhaps there was something you needed. I wondered why you are here? You do not deal with the dying.”  The Angel of Death was a deliberate, unpracticed speaker –the words fell from his lips like clunky, typewritten phrases.

“No,” the imp snapped with practiced aplomb. “But the girl was… _unique_. You say she saw good in everyone?”

“Yes,” Death responded unaffectedly. “But, not in you.” The same expressionless, empty eyes calmly surveyed the demon across form him. “She cannot see good where good does not exist,” he concluded flatly.

_“Where good does not exist…”_ The Dark One tasted the words thoughtfully. Juggling each one with bitter rebellion, he ran a blackened, long tough nail lightly over her sallow cheek. “How long does she have?”

“Three nights, four days.”

Rumplestiltskin gazed thoughtfully at the motionless figure stretched out on the bed. “Would you like to make a deal, Old Friend?”

This comment sparked the first flicker of emotion across Death’s creamy upraised brow. “What kind of deal? I would like to hear this deal.” The angel of death settled stiffly on the edge of the hospital mattress, hands folded deliberately in the lap of his black wool suit.

Rumplestiltskin templed his scaled green fingers with reflective taps. “Three nights! Four days!” he trilled with devilish delight, “to prove that the girl can find good in even _me._ ” The imp jutted his chin in a mock pout and topped it with a shrill giggle. “If, by sunset on the fourth day she hasn’t found any good in me, I will concede that you’re right and you may – _take her away!_ ” Rumplestiltskin emphasized with a flourish of his wrist. “I’ll also throw in that ‘trinket’ I obtained that I know you’ve been coveting. However…if you’re wrong...” The fabled legends met eye to eye as the Dark One leaned over the Angel of Death with brimming excitement and wiggled his index finger in the immortal’s face. “You have to let her live until she’s old and gray. Do we have a deal?”

Death rose up from his seat and slowly extended his stiff hand to grip the Dark One’s scaly green claw.  “I like this,” he declared quietly with an unpracticed smile. “I would like to make this deal.”

Rumplestiltskin delivered a snappy shake and a wide, toothy grin of his own as Death left the room.

With all mirth spent in the golden-green eyes, the Dark One bent over Belle’s face and studied every line, curve and milky plain before gripping her inanimate hand in his own scaly grasp. _“We shall see…”_ his whisper hovered in the purple mist that enshrouded the girl and the master of darkness. 


	2. Stained Glass

There was a cool damp pressure against her skin and the aroma of rich, dark earth in her senses. Her lips brushed the blades of grass as she stirred, pressing her palms into the soft soil beside her as she sat up. Her legs were tangled in something.  Fingering the fabric from her waste to her ankles she threaded through yards of puckered chiffon. A dress?

Above, the sun beat steadily against her brow. Belle raised both hands to brush her shut eyelids and felt them warm to the touch. She was dizzy and disoriented and her throat was parched. Sighing inaudibly she lowered both hands to the ground and combed the grass on all sides for her cane. “I must have fallen asleep in the park,” she thought sleepily to herself, and yet the air was so still, so quiet –unlike any place she remembered.

_“Won’t you open your eyes?”_ A voice whispered beside her. Belle pivoted sharply toward its origin but it evaded her. With every syllable it shifted as if riding on the breeze that picked up the loose strands of her hair and tossed them over her shoulders. _“Won’t you open your eyes?”_

For eighteen years, Belle hadn’t concerned herself with open or closed eyelids. Of course, she knew when they moved. She practiced it regularly, hating to lose the muscle memory. Also, she realized that some people were uncomfortable staring at her glossy blues when she spoke with them. So, this decision was not a matter of whether she could open her eyes, but rather a matter of whether she wanted to.

“I’m blind,” she spoke plainly. There was a whisper of wind across her shoulders and a heavy scent of sweet, musky roses and then the question again:

_“Won’t you open your eyes?”_

Belle blinked once, then twice –blinding colors, reflections, and shapes searing her eyes, delivering sharp, pulsating pangs through her skull.

_“It will pass…concentrate.”_ Were it possible for a voice to touch her, she would have believed the last words cradled her head, passing something warm and tingly through her brain. With a stubborn jut of her chin, she opened her eyelids again, allowing them to flutter at will against the light until blurs became clean cut objects of green, red, blue and white. _A miracle!_ Belle gasped with wary delight. She held her breath in trepidation as she searched out her surroundings, only gulping in air when absolutely necessary. She expected the glorious sensation to fade away; to be plunged once more into darkness at any moment and so she sat frozen in enraptured contentment, gazing with dumbfounded wonder at the giant tree above her head, the knee-high grass and wild flowers waving against her sides.  

_“Won’t you come in?”_  No one was around her. Behind, a large meadow stretched far and wide until it dipped down to a stream, beyond that four great mountains loomed in the distance. The large, gnarled black tree rose on her left, shading her with it’s wide, emerald speckled branches. Colorful wildflowers sprinkled the meadow she was seated in and before her a towering metal gate dominated the ivy covered, stone wall that ran endlessly in opposite directions. Believing it all to be another one of her childhood dreams, Belle dug two sharp nails into the flesh of her forearm. _“Won’t you come in?”_ the voice whispered again.

Rising from the damp earth, waves of lilac organza billowed out and around her. Running her fingers lightly over the silken petals of her bodice, she gripped two fists of soft material in hand, raising the skirts and stepping forward, she glanced briefly over her shoulder at the silvery foam of light fabric brushing over the trampled grass and wondered how long she’d been lying there.

_“Won’t you come in?”_ the voice echoed from beyond the metal gate.

“Who are you?” Belle asked.

When no answer came, she gripped the iron handle and wondered at her sanity. The purpling flesh on her arm reminded her that this was not a dream, but she felt so certain that this couldn’t be reality. In reality she could not see, could not explore, could not be this brave. In reality she lived in a world of cement and glass, not in this lush, green wonderland. There were no mountains in central park, no wildflower meadows or sapphire blue rivers –of this she was certain, even without her sight. She had to know who brought her here, and so she moved on.

The gate opened silently, despite its aged appearance, slipping through the opening she stepped onto a sandstone path that wound in various directions through a large, beautifully tended garden. The wind shut the gate behind her and she shuttered at its unexpected clank in the velvet silence of this unusual place. Topiaries three times her size bordered the path she chose to follow. It was the straightest path and lead directly ahead for the most part. Other, narrower paths on either side led into smaller gardens. She spotted a myriad of magnificent roses from several different twisting avenues. Where the topiaries ended a view of castle spires rose up in the distance. It appeared at first to be a grayish green, old and deteriorated. Through another boxed garden of sweet and spicy herbs, a graveled courtyard of white marble statues and an orchard of citrus trees she came at last to a wide, circular mote and once again her new eyesight deceived her, for the castle was not old, not gray or green or in any way deteriorated. The castle was a blushing peach with clean lines and grand towers with sharp peaked roofs that pierced the cerulean sky.  Having been blind since she was six, her only thought was of her picture books, wonderful works of fiction her father use to borrow from their library. Certainly a castle like this would be inhabited by a powerful king and queen that ruled their lands fairly and justly. Somewhere far away their daughter would be guarded in a tower of her own by a ferocious dragon waiting to be slayed.

Smiling timidly at her foolish daydream, Belle approached the stone bridge leading to two, immense wooden doors in the castle wall. Here she paused and took a deep breath before raising her fist to knock.

_“What are you waiting for?”_ the voice whispered beside her.

Belle crossed both arms beneath her breast and stared stubbornly at the massive doors. “Well, I can’t just walk inside! It’s not my home.” The air shivered with a trembling chuckle and the two doors swung inward.

_“This way…”_ the voice tickled in her ear.

The courtyard was circular, paved in smooth, white stones with a fountain at its center. Doors and archways, along with steps that lead up to the wall, surrounded her on all sides but the voice was rushing on the wind that whistled through a keyhole in a narrow door at a tower on her right. The white stones were cool through the thin satin slippers on her feet. The door’s latch was unlocked and the round room within was empty save a stone staircase that wound up into the darkness above. Belle stepped slowly, always listening to the wind as it playfully rushed to and fro, skipping from stone to stone across the tower’s interior. Halfway up, the rushing stopped and quiet fell once again. A door stood on the little landing at her left. It was a strange door, green and intricately carved with flowers, leaves, and vines. Light was spilling out from beneath and Belle lifted her arm to knock, but once again it opened before she could. The room was flooded with rainbow lighting from an immense stained glass window directly across from her. The ceiling was high and bookshelves rose from floor to roof on every side, except for the large mahogany fireplace below the painted window.

In the center of the room was a wide, round rug, thick and plush in a blood red oriental design. There was one chair in the room; a barbaric, ornately carved relic with gold brocade. It was the only piece of furniture in the hollow space. Belle crossed the carpet and lifted her face to the illuminated wall. It was unusual to be sure. The only stained glass she knew anything about was set in the stone of Trinity Church in Manhattan. A creature was the focal point of this arched glass. His emerald green skin and purple-brown clothing was starkly contrasted against cobalt blue, ruby and amber landscape. Thick lead cames jutted through its body, holding each fractured puzzle piece in place. The creature was captured mid-prance. Its arms and legs frozen in the air while its head was flung back in laughter. She could almost hear the high-pitched giggle escape its silvery lips or maybe it was just the wind…the wind!

“Where are you?” Belle spun around, facing each wall in turn with brass determination. “Show yourself! Why am I here? What has happened to me?”

_“So many questions…”_

The statement riddled with mirth danced in a gust about the room, flitting from place to place and she could not follow it with her newborn eyes. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

Belle pressed both palms into her eye sockets until the customary darkness soothed her nerves. “I’m not in New York, am I?”

_“No…”_

“Where am I?”

Silence.

“Am I alive?” Belle kept her eyes closed, her breath caught in her chest until the voice responded.

_“Yes.”_

“Did you bring me here?”

Silence.

_“It won’t go away…”_

“What won’t go away?”

_“The sight…you will always have it, so long as you stay within the walls.”_

“Was I operated on? How did this happen? I was told this could never happen?” Belle shook her bowed head violently from side to side in disbelief.

Silence.

“Please,” Belle opened her eyes slowly; everything around her was the same except one thing. The stained glass was not as she had remembered it. The creature poised mid-frolic was now standing both legs spread, arms crossed over its chest, head cocked to the side. Its wild, yellow eyes were looking at her; and on its face was a wide silver-toothed smile. Crazy or not, it was easier to focus her attention on one thing than to follow the wind about from here to there. That was why she faced the opalescent glass undaunted and asked the question: “Why am I here?”

_“Everything you need to know will come from these books.”_ Belle shrieked as the little green creature skipped and jumped before her eyes, cackling and frolicking about in its heavy metal frame.

“I must be dreaming.” The sharp giggle echoed in response within the ceiling above her while she pressed another fingernail into the purple and black bruise on her arm.

_“Oh! I’m afraid that won’t do it, Dearie!”_

Belle couldn’t understand. If this was a dream –and this must be a dream, then why couldn’t she wake up?

_“Come, come now! You’re wasting prrrecious minutes!”_ the imp trilled with a flick of its sparkling hand. _“Pick a book –any book at all!”_

After blinking for another moment Belle surrendered to the strangeness of it all and without much thought, selected a thick brown book from the nearest shelf. Running her fingertips over the gilt letters, she paused, hooking her upper teeth over the soft flesh of her bottom lip as she stared at the binding.

_“What’s the matter, Dearie? Can’t you read?”_

“No,” came the abrupt answer. “Not like this…I don’t think so…at least I don’t remember,” she stuttered with a sigh. Belle gently teased the cover with her dainty thumb as she quietly mourned what she viewed as her greatest weakness. All this knowledge lining the shelves around her and she couldn’t partake in a morsel. Braille translations were limited in number and so much of the knowledge she craved had been denied her, her whole life. Now that the opportunity presented itself she felt cruelly taunted by this trick of fate.

_“No matter!”_ the imp dismissed from his lofty perch. _“You’ll soon learn. Now, which one did you pick? Ah, yes, ‘Kai und Renate’. Well, set the book down on the floor and open it…yes open it to the beginning.”_

Belle carried the book to the center of the round rug and turned open the cover. A jumble of sounds burst from within and she watched in awe as the letters raced across the pages, filling every empty space with curly cues, slopes and inclines. Brightly painted pictures were moving as well; the first page revealing a king and queen with a babe in their arms.

Belle couldn’t see much more because the room began to fill with a thick purple haze that smelled of musk and saffron and swirled around her until she felt sick. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped and everything was quiet, only instead of sitting on the floor in the library she found herself seated in the garden and she wasn’t alone.

 

“Can you hear me, Belle? I’m here, Sweetie. I’m right here.” The silver haired grimy cab driver pressed wet kisses to her hand and sat until dusk at her side alternating between gruff sobs muffled into the bedclothes and mumbled prayers.

The Dark One witnessed the little scene indifferently, his expression unreadable as he wove his cocoon of magic around her fragile mind. Doctors and nurses came and went but Rumplestiltskin remained on his perch, weaving his spell between them.

“How much time has this bought you?” Death inquired impassively.

“Three years and some months,” the Dark One sniggered with a boastful glint in his eye. “Three years in my world will be four days in this one.”


	3. Renate

Her limbs were stiff and cold trapped in polished armor. Around Belle a dozen ladies and gentlemen clothed in velvets, silks, and embroidered finery were pacing silently in the circular courtyard. She would pinch herself if any portion of her flesh weren’t encased in hard metal. Only a soft woolen shirt and breeches separated skin from armor. Shifting slightly on the stone bench she was startled to discover the metal was surprisingly light. She rose slowly, her sabatons crackling softly against the gravel under her feet. No one looked up at her, no one seemed to care that she’d simply appeared out of thin air. She was dreaming! She must be dreaming! Shaking her head violently from side to side she blinked furiously. Why wasn’t she waking?

_“Shh…listen…someone is looking for you.”_

“What is this? What is going on?”

_“You’re reading a book.”_

There wasn’t a book in her hands or anywhere around her for that matter. Belle bit her lip in consternation, lifting one gloved metal hand to her face as she stumbled over her failing conclusions. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

_“Listen…”_

“Ah! It’s come! The knight has come! My dear, we have counted every minute ’til your arrival.” Sweeping majestically across the gravel walkway, a beautiful woman in trailing rich, emerald robes extended her arms toward Belle. She was pale as the full moon with sapphire eyes and carmine lips. A diamond-studded crown graced the dark nest of black locks coiled artfully around her head. Closing the distance between them, she beamed a smile of relief and extended two graceful arms. “At last! You’ve come! We have waited…so long!” Stopping an arms breadth from Belle, she fluttered a gesture toward the thick crowd of meek devotees at her heels. Beautiful men and women silently trailed their mistress, similarly costumed in period velvets and silks.

Belle turned from side to side. All eyes were fixed on her. “Me?”

“Yes, of course.” The woman nodded sharply to her entourage and they dispersed without a word.  

“Is this _your_ castle then?”

“Certainly, my dear."

"Is this…a party?” 

Tickling laughter whispered past her ear, reminding Belle once again of the imp in the library, but before she could speak a clap of thunder boomed above them. Belle glanced up at the sky. Swarming overhead in a nimbus pool of steel gray, giant black words chased each other through a maze of scattered lightning. 

“Amazing…” she whispered as her word shot across the sky into the black throng. “What are those?” she asked agape.

“You mean the clouds?”

“Those aren’t clouds,” Belle mumbled under her breath. Once again she witnessed each letter swim through the thick black horde above their heads until they were completely swallowed in a swirling inky mass.

The queen chuckled lightly. Petting Belle’s left metal gauntlet, she flashed her a bright smile, “You are very… _unusual_ , but I suppose _that_ is what makes you a great warrior –hmm?” Linking Belle’s metal limb within her own slender arm she led them through the court, past the trees, toward a view of a great lone mountain. Wreathed in clouds it stumbled toward the heavens like a thick, crooked finger. “Do you see that small black spot in the center of the mountain?” Belle nodded silently. “ _That,_ is the dragon’s lair. _That_ , is where you will find him. But you must leave now!”  The queen swung to face her and rested both palms on her shoulders. Unshed tears lacquered her large, blue eyes. “I am so relieved you have come to save my little boy! For three years we have not seen him, since the dragon snatched him away from us. We’ve heard such great things about you! Your _bravery_! Your _ferocity_! Our lives are in your hands!” With a great sigh, she stepped back, tucking her dainty hands together at her waist. 

“That’s…that’s…” Belle gasped in horror. “You think I’m here to fight a dragon?” she choked.

“Of course!” The queen quirked her head with a bemused grin.

“Wait, I…”

But the queen had moved on. Clapping her bejeweled hands, she summoned the crowd of obedient attendants. Their faces were absent of all emotion, their movements like rehearsed performance. Belle likened them to living china dolls; flawless to look at, but soulless droids.

“Take our champion to the mountain pass and then return to me.”

Without another word, the queen turned on her heel. The servants stared blankly at Belle and when she didn’t move, began to crowd around her and shove her forward down the dirt path.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I’m not the knight you’re looking for! I’m not even a knight!” but the mindless followers showed no sign of comprehending what Belle said, so with an indignant huff she eventually stopped protesting and allowed them to lead her down the sloping hill toward a little village below. There weren’t many houses, maybe three or four dozen. It was picturesque the way Belle would have imagined medieval towns to be. Peasants of all ages stood in their doorways or peeped out their windows to observe the silent pilgrimage toward the mountain’s edge.

After a while the village faded away and thick woods surrounded the entourage on every side. They followed a narrow path that wound through trees that grew so thickly together they almost blocked all natural light, but eventually they too faded away and the rocks replaced the thick pines around them. Cropping up like jagged teeth on their right and left, Belle saw that they covered the hills as far as the eye could see. Towering above, closer with every step, the imposing mountain scratched the sky like the New York buildings of her home. Belle had only heard of mountains, but she had never seen one and despite herself, she felt excitement flutter in her breast. Already she had seen more in this strange dream than all the images her mind had fought to preserve her entire life since she was six. If only every dream could be this vivid. Belle gripped a thick coil of her chestnut hair with one stiff, metal hand and pulled viciously. “Ow!” she yelped. If this had been a dream, there was no way to wake herself up. Belle glanced up at the great thundering sky of words and shook her head slowly. “How can this be real?” Belle thought of a quote her father had used on more than one occasion:

 

_“There are intangible realities which float near us, formless and without words; realities which no one has thought out,_

_and which are excluded for lack of interpreters…”_

A gust of warm, spicy wind wove through the pebbled landscape carrying whispered words out past the farthest hill. _“On and on…”_

Where the rocks thickened and appeared to pile atop each other, like crude steps toward heaven, her guides stopped walking. Each one turned their face upwards and pointed to the crumbling path hidden among the boulders. It circled the mountain endlessly until it disappeared into the clouds above. When Belle lowered her gaze, she realized that the group had deserted her.  With a thud she sat down on the nearest rock and stared at the daunting path.

 _“What are you waiting for?”_ the voice giggled in the shell of her ear.

Belle crossed her arms as best she could in the clunky armor. “I’m waiting…because I can’t fight a dragon.”

_“Have you ever tried?”_

“No.” 

 _“Then you know nothing.”_ The wind playfully skipped from boulder to boulder around her. Belle found it irritating.

 _“You should go up…go up…go up…”_ the voice echoed off of the rocky walls; and because there was nothing else she could do, Belle stood up and began to carefully climb the winding path into the clouds.

It was tedious work. There were places so narrow, only one foot could fit in front of the other and Belle hugged the mountain’s side with bated breath, but the wind blew softly as she climbed and she found it somehow comforting.

After a while the path broke through the clouds and the land was no longer visible but she saw that she was now mere steps away from the mammoth hole in the mountainside. Freezing immediately, regret began flooding her fearful mind –twisting and fashioning all sorts of imaginary scenarios in her vivid imagination. What did a dragon look like? She only knew the ones from the storybooks. Were they the same in real life? What would she do when she found it –if she _did_ find it?

Belle fumbled with the long sword hanging from her side. Quaking violently she held it awkwardly in front of her, its pointed tip quivering above her head. The air grew warmer as she approached the mouth of the cave; spicy gusts that were a welcome sensation in the frigid mountain atmosphere. With every step, Belle reminded herself that this could only be a dream; and at its worst, would simply be the jolt she needed to wake up. After about ten paces her sword struck hard rock. With an audible sigh of relief, she lowered its metal point to the floor.

To her left, daylight seeped through a narrow slit in the rock wall. It burned bright and then was gone. Curious and far more confident now that she was alone, Belle approached the anomaly. The closer she drew, the more frequent and steady the light became. The air was still heavy and grew increasingly warmer with every step. Reaching out her left metallic arm toward the source of the light, Belle stopped dead as the light grew round and yellow. Frozen in horror she watched another yellow orb join the first.

“No,” she whispered, raising the heavy sword with both arms toward two blinking serpent eyes in a sea of black.

She had poked the beast! She had literally poked the dragon and woken it up! Angry and indignant at her haphazard mistake, Belle spread her feet apart and forcefully steadied herself as the ground quaked beneath her, shaking fitfully with each thunderous movement of a furious creature she couldn’t see. A streak of orange fire blazed over her head and for an instant she saw at least twenty feet of green and gray scaled, muscular flesh weaving back and forth in preparation to strike.  Waving her sword blindly against the falling darkness she choked out a pitiful scream and backed against the cave’s nearest wall.  Another streak of fire scorched the stone beside her. Heart racing, feet pounding against the stone floor, Belle charged forward with a wild howl, weapon slashing frantically before her as she dipped the blade’s edge toward the pulsing chest of the monster. 

“No! Stop!”  A small voice wailed through the dark. A light raced nearer, flickered from the recess of the cave and paused at the side of the roaring dragon, illuminating a child’s face. “Please stop! Don’t hurt him!”

The dragon continued to howl and stomp, exhaling thick puffs of smoke, but no flames. Belle strained against the darkness. The only light emanating from the single torch in the child’s fist, dimly illuminating his wide-eyed face. He came no higher than Belle’s chest.  A puddle of unshed tears clung to the fringe of the boy’s lower lashes. Wide blue eyes pleaded with her for mercy, one hand brushing soothing strokes down the belly of the fire-breathing beast, while the other hovered between the two humans. The dragon kept one golden eye fixed unblinkingly on the knight. Belle lowered the tip of her sword to the ground without looking away. Adrenaline still flooded her veins, causing her to shiver in her clunky metal suit.

“Shh, Kai. It’s alright, I’m here. We’re safe, Kai. She won’t harm us.” The beast exhaled a steamy breath from its flared nostrils and shook its powerful neck in defiance. “Shh, Papa. Be still.” Steady strokes over the thunderous heart of the fabled creature seemed to calm its riotous nature.

Belle gawked at the two creatures, dragon and little prince furious and fearless locked away in the mountain cave. Dragon appeased, the child turned his attention to the quivering knight. With a shaky smile and shy tip of his head he faced Belle’s questions head-on.

“It was prophesied that the one true, brave knight would save me and my land from a great evil. Kai and I have waited for you on this mountain for three years.” 

Without blinking away from the deadly beast Belle choked out a few words, “I’m…” 

“Renate! I know!” The little prince grinned widely. “We all know the stories of your heroics and bravery,” he sing-songed with a gleam in his eye, “You’re legendary!”

“What?” Belle shook her head slowly in confusion and let the book title seep slowly into her understanding. “But I’m just…”

“Here to save the prince…I know! But you’re wrong, you know!”

“I am?”

“Yes,” he nodded with a serious pucker and wrinkled brow, “you are here for much, _much_ more than that!”

 The little prince paused, shut his eyes and took one deep breath. “This is my father.” 


	4. Appearances Aren't Always...

Rumplestiltskin blinked twice through citrine eyes at the shivering slip of a girl in front of him. Even in steel armor she’d melt in moments under his intense exhalation. Shifting uncomfortably in his serpentine form, Rumplestiltskin struggled to master the strings of his imposing disguise; weaving the dragon’s sinewy neck from side to side, always with an eye on the knight in front of him. If she stabbed him, this particular illusion would fade swiftly and he was in no hurry to quit the story he was crafting so cleverly from this particular fairy tale. It was clear to him that his little heroine was no longer doubting the reality of her situation but had rather dramatically shifted that doubt to a state of utter horror and blatant shock. He perceived quite clearly that she wanted nothing better than to grasp the little boy’s hand and bolt for escape. And yet…she didn’t move. She was listening to the urchin’s tale, a heartbreaking story about a neglected son whose father had transformed himself in the name of love in order to save his life and the life of the village. With the tale complete, Belle sat down on a nearby rock, sword still in hand, brows knit quizzically together as she gnawed unthinkingly on her plump lower lip. It was an endearing expression the beast noted with blanketed amusement, one he intended to provoke again.

 

“So you see…you thought you were here to save me, but you’re actually here to save everyone. The whole kingdom!” 

Flustered and still confused Belle responded slowly, “Then who is the queen?”

The boy took a seat next to her, swinging both legs out with a sigh, “my mother.”

Belle’s eyebrows rose then settled back into their wrinkle of thought. “But…why would she want your father dead?”

The little boy shrugged his boney shoulders and reached out to finger the hilt of Belle’s sword. “I suppose…I guess she just wants to keep ruling, keep doing her own thing without father.” 

Belle took another moment to think on that. After another long pause she sighed almost inaudibly and looked levelly at the child. “What would you like me to do?”

“Help us,” he responded flatly.

“And how would I do that?”

“Every night from sunset to sunrise Kai flies back and forth over the town protecting as many as he can from my mother’s spell. Anyone who leaves the town line, they forget who they are and they just start doing whatever she tells them. She puts some kind of spell on them.”  Gesturing clumsily with his hands, one dirty finger traced a horseshoe in the air. “It comes from a necklace with a weird stone in it. I’ve seen it glow when someone goes near her. I think if you could just get the stone, then maybe…”

“Maybe everyone would be safe?” she suggested.

He lifted those large blue eyes to Belle again but immediately dropped them with another shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”

“So, she's using some kind of magic?" Bae nodded silently. "If she’s as powerful as she sounds, I don’t know that I’ll be able to get near her again without you.”

“Oh, don’t worry! Kai can fly you close by and all you have to do is drop down and fight your way to her side…He’ll help you!” the child added confidently.

As if suddenly remembering her surroundings, Belle whipped her head around toward the monstrous beast resting impossibly still only a few meters away. Its glossy orbs of gold with illusive flecks of green were still regarding her steadily. After a few long moments it tilted its head at her, as if it too were waiting for her answer. 

With great self-control Belle tore her eyes away and turned purposefully back to the boy, lips squeezed in a thin line of determination. “I am not a warrior,” she responded emphatically. “I can’t fight or save your people.” 

“Oh, don’t worry!” the boy responded with a carefree grin. “You just haven’t done it for a while. You’re probably a little rusty. As soon as you’re in the thick of it I’m sure it’ll come back to you!” he smiled confidently with a nod of his shaggy head.

Belle couldn’t restrain the smile that creased her lips. “Spells, boys with dragon friends! I _must_  be dreaming! And _you_ are impossible to argue with.” 

“I know.”

“Well,” she smirked, giving him a gentle shove, “what’s your name?”

“You can call me Bae!” 

“And you can call me Belle.”

“I’d rather call you Renate, because that’s a hero’s name!”

“I guess that’s okay,” Belle hesitated with a crooked smile and then paused with another thought. “Why do you call the dragon Kai if he’s your father?”

Bae jumped up from his seat and strode brazenly toward the mighty beast. Raising one small hand to pet the dragon’s leg like a tiny leaf against the trunk of an ancient oak. “He doesn’t respond to father. He isn’t my father anymore. He stopped being my father when he became this beast, but…” Bae turned sadly away and returned solemnly to his hero’s side, “I still love him.”

Belle glanced down at the sword still resting in her hand and decidedly slipped it back into its sheath. Whether in the throes of battle, or by the teeth of this little boy’s monster, it was increasingly obvious to her that there was no escaping this delusion except through death. _“We always wake up from nightmares at the peak of our terror, don’t we?”_ she mused.

Bae grasped Belle’s hand and led her toward the mouth of the cave. Outside the sky was dazzling, copper streaked with crimson. Tears pooled in the young heroine’s eyes at the glorious sight she’d only dreamt about in her years of darkness. The great word clouds still swam above their heads, dipping into the horizon as the boy pointed toward the castle she’d come from and spoke about his mother’s nightly routine.

“She’ll be just there,” he gestured toward a wide grassy knoll on the far edge of the village. “She always waits there with her guard until sunrise. There isn’t a lot of food in the village. Sometimes what Kai and I drop from the nearby forests isn’t enough. People will get desperate and then they…” he let the sentence die on his lips, finishing instead with another shrug. “As soon as they reach the hill they’re no longer the same.”

Belle nodded silently. Dread, and could it be a twinge of excitement building in her gut. A strong gust of wind and a grumble of earth announced the presence of Kai at Belle’s side. She looked at him steadily, curiosity trampling her fear at the fascinating sight of such a magnificent beast up close. Shimmering dark purple scales caught every angle of the sun’s last rays. Those large reptilian eyes, so alien in their unearthly color were not as wholly inhuman up close. In fact, Belle imagined she saw intelligence behind their intimidating gaze. Without a thought she watched in belated terror as her hand reached out to touch the glistening scales just below its ear. Kai’s stare never wavered but his head lowered just a fraction at the feather light touch.

“Just because he looks scary doesn’t mean he’ll hurt you.” Bae glanced at Belle with a quick grin and then turned his attention back towards the horizon. “My mother…she looks beautiful, but she’s really evil. And what she’s doing…has done...it’s wrong.” The little boy spoke softly, calmly. “Appearances aren’t always what they seem…” His face wore a weighty expression of bitter understanding startlingly absent of innocence. Belle rested a metallic hand on his shoulder, longing to offer some small comfort to the boy with the heart of a man. 

As the last streaks of color slunk into gray twilight Kai unfurled his mammoth wings with a thunderous crack, shifting forward to grip the cliff’s edge with his talons. Belle inhaled sharply as his thigh brushed against her steel tasset and then with a lightning swipe of his powerful tail Belle was falling without warning –plummeting head first, over the cliff face –through damp fog and icy wind. Breathless, wide eyes burning against the punch of frigid mountain air, terror ripped through her senses with the first glimpse of rocks far below her. And then in a blink, the ground was gone and shimmering scaled skin swept up beneath her as she crashed against Kai’s back with bruising clumsiness. They were gaining speed and Belle gripped the dragon’s spine in a mixture of trembling apprehension and relief as they raced toward the swirling words overhead. Inky swirls shattered upon his wings like rain drops as they darted through the swarm, arched, and then swooped toward the village.

Dipping down in wide, graceful circles around the town and surrounding area, Belle pressed her forehead into Kai’s surprisingly warm, mottled back and took concentrated, long shaky breaths until her heartbeat was almost normal. 

 _“You’re not going to fall.”_  

Startled, Belle pulled back her head and met a punch of icy wind. Quickly settling again in the groove of the dragon’s warm back she listened intently for the familiar voice in the wind. 

_“Why don’t you look down?”_

The same voice, soft and high and playful was at once familiar and unmistakable but it wasn’t in the wind and it wasn’t above her; it was reverberating deep beneath her in the very belly of the beast she was riding upon. At once uneasy, Belle stared intently at the back of the beast’s head and neck as it shifted and dove with unwavering purpose. Lowering her face to Kai’s back she pressed her ear into his polished skin. 

A dark, intense, rolling laugh; a flash of fire from the dragon’s mouth and the voice again:  _“I said -why don’t you look down?”_

“But you…were in the glass. I thought…” 

_“Do I look like glass, dearie?”_

Belle’s brow furrowed in indignant confusion. “You can speak?” 

_“I’m speaking to you, aren’t I?”_

Once they’d sunk below the clouds the view was much clearer and with a brave glance below Belle spotted the villagers as they practically ran into their homes with the last bit of dusky light. Shutters were closed and streets abandoned. As velvet darkness closed around them the only light came from the castle windows and a line of flickering lights on the grassy knoll where Bae had pointed earlier. As Kai picked up speed, the lights grew larger until Belle spied a line of black figures on horseback with torches upraised, and then a voice; smooth, melodic and clear as crystal echoed over the little valley. 

“I am your Queen now and always. If you come to me now, I will have mercy on you and I will care for you.”

A bright light radiated from the queen neck, casting a green halo over her company. For an hour the queen repeated her words. After a while a brave knight was sent to test the village borders while Kai completed his sweep on the far side of his endless circles. Like lightning the beast shot across the expanse, raining fire on the scout and his horse.

Their circles had never swept so close to the queen’s hill and as Kai’s fire poured mercilessly down upon the shrieking soldier, the queen’s face illuminated in the firelight. Belle realized their mistake too late. A wicked smirk of recognition twisted the corner of her perfect red pout and was that challenge flashing in her eyes? Belle couldn’t tell, but she felt nothing but cold as she sank once again into Kai’s back and shot into the sky once again. 

Screams of pain sliced keenly through the dead quiet as the injured soldier slunk behind the queen’s line of defense. 

“She saw us,” Belle groaned into the beasts side.

 _“The mean queen has seen a thing she hoped to never see…you see, she sees that hope is dead as with the beast her knight has fled.”_ Sing-songing across the sky Belle settled against the dragon’s warm flesh and soon sunk into a half dream state.  It was the queen’s voice that jolted her awake.

 

“Knight! Is that you? Why don’t you come down and meet with me? I have no quarrel with you,” she bellowed through the black sky.

 

Belle turned her head towards the glowing green distance while Kai made another sweep over the rocky hills that skirted the little valley. Belle thought of the boy in the cave, of the beast she was riding and then of her own family. Her mother was all sunshine, warmth, forgiveness and encouragement; Bae’s mother, from what she could tell, was cold, selfishly driven and manipulative. “No child should be raised by a parent like that!” she thought indignantly.  Reaching down to grip the hilt of her sword Belle tilted her face against the wind, closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

“Alright, Kai. Take us down.”

Another gurgling chuckle rumbled below her. _“As you wish…”_


End file.
